


After the Fade

by ValkyrieNeedsFood



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drinking, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-01-20 22:59:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12443706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValkyrieNeedsFood/pseuds/ValkyrieNeedsFood
Summary: Isa Trevelyan has a nightmare while at Adamant. On her search for a stiff drink, she runs into the new Warden Commander. Alistair has been drinking and is not too happy about her choice to leave Hawke in the fade.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tempered_rose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempered_rose/gifts).



Isa Trevelyan awoke as a drowning woman might surface, gasping and reaching. The darkness in her room was disorienting. Shadows bounced as the anchor in her hand flared and the green light it cast made her think she was still in the fade. She was standing with daggers in both hands before she realized she was awake.

Adamant, I’m in a room in Adamant.

Her heart was racing and she took some deep breaths to calm herself. She had been dreaming of the Nightmare demon. They were at the edge of escaping. She only needed a moment to open the fade rift. Someone had to stay and cover their escape. Marion and Alistair stepped forward, both insisting they had reasons to stay. She had to choose. She had to send one of them to die. 

Marion Hawke had stayed in reality, but in her dream, her mouth formed Alistair’s name. He smiled as he turned and ran towards his death. The demon cut him down as she watched. 

Her pulse was back to normal but her mind was already replaying that moment, her choice, over and over. Leaving Hawke in the fade ate at her, but the thought of leaving Alistair…well, she would not be able to go back to sleep any time soon.

Adamant was cold at night. The thick stone walls and tiny windows made Isa feel like she was in a cave. She shivered as she put on her leather breeches and boots. Along with the loose linen shirt she had been sleeping in, she was decent enough to go sneaking around the fortress. Surely these wardens kept a few bottles of Antivan brandy somewhere. Maybe a drink (or three) would calm her mind.

The fortress was big. It wasn’t quite the size of Skyhold but it was close. Isa made her way through the warren of silent hallways and empty courtyards. The only sounds she encountered were from the healers, still up well after midnight, checking on their patients. She avoided them and the sleepy guards on the battlements.

She could smell the kitchen before she found it. The lingering odor of bread and herbs led her straight to the ovens. From there, a little exploration found the cask room. The light of a lantern drew her to the chamber. Someone was already there.

Alistair sat at a small table near the far side of the room. A half-empty bottle sat next to his hand which was curled around a glass. She stopped in the darkness of the doorway and watched him for a moment, unsure if she should interrupt him or not.

“Lurking in shadows doesn’t seem befitting of the great Inquisitor,” Alistair acknowledged without turning his head, his tone flat. 

Isa was impressed. Most people would have never known she was there. Alistair often played the jester but she had seen him fight. He was skilled and clever. She picked up a glass from one of the shelves and moved another chair to the table. She regarded him as she sat. The dark circles under his eyes and tight set to his jaw made him look tired. 

“Couldn’t sleep either?” she inquired as she reached for the bottle he held. He pushed it into her fingers and frowned.

“No,” he answered with a snort. “Who would have thought fighting a giant fear demon while physically in the fade would give you nightmares?”

He punctuated his thought by throwing back the remainder of his drink with a grimace. She noted it was whiskey as she poured herself a measure. 

“I want to talk to you about that…” she began.

“Why did you do it?” he whispered, his tone cold and flat.

She opened her mouth to reply, to ask for clarification, to find out what he meant but the look in his eyes made the words dry up. When they had spent time together before, she knew the false calling made him suffer, but there was always a warmth to his gaze. A kindness that drew her in. That light was gone. His eyes were dark now. 

“Why did you pick Hawke?” he demanded. “She had people that loved her. She mattered to them and you sent her to her death.”

His words prickled her nerves. 

“There are people that care about you too.” she threw back.

“The only person who ever really cared about me is dead.” he spat, his voice a keen edge that cut her heart. 

Her jaw tightened and she felt as if she had been slapped. He looked down at his hands.

“I’m sure you’ve heard the stories. The bastard prince and the hero of Ferelden?” His voice was low and edged with bitterness. 

“She was so much more than that. Did you know she was an elf raised in the Denerim Alienage? She was conscripted because some noble prick raped her friend and killed her fiancé. She killed the bastard and because she was an elf they wanted to hang her. Can you imagine?”

The words tumbled out of him and she didn’t dare interrupt.

“Even after all that, she wanted to help people. She was the kindest, strongest person I ever met. I loved her from the first time I looked into her eyes. And, Maker be damned, she loved me too. That was her downfall.”

The anger had drained from him as he spoke, only a deep sorrow remained.

“The darkspawn were attacking Denerim. The city was overrun by the horde but the archdemon had come with it. If a warden could manage to kill the archdemon the blight would end. Of course, whoever strikes the killing blow dies too. I knew this. I knew when she told me to stay in the city and hold the gates that she was going to fight the archdemon alone. I let her make the choice. She sacrificed herself and I let her.”

He looked up and caught her gaze. 

“Don’t you see? This was my chance to make things right. It should have been me.”

The misery in his eyes, the heartache in his voice, it was more than she could stand. She reached across the table and covered his hands with her own.

“No, Alistair. She loved you. She wouldn’t want you to…” she started.

He pulled his hands away, his grief overtaken by anger.

“Don’t you dare try to tell me what she would want.” he hissed. “She despised people like you. Nobles, looking down their nose at the rest of us. What’s the name of the the servant who cleans your room?”

Isa froze. She had met the woman but never asked her name. The only words they exchanged were concerning requests she made for the room. 

Alistair’s gaze sharpened. The venom in his voice sickened her.

“I’ll make this easier. Besides being an elf, do you even know what she looks like.” he sneered.

Was this how he saw her? A pampered noble who treated elves like Tevinter slaves? Indignation filled her but a tiny part of her wondered if he was right. She stood and glared down at him.

“I am not a monster. The choice to send one person to their death over another will haunt me till the day I die. Until you step up and become the one making those kind of decisions, you don’t have the right to second guess me. Good night, Warden Commander.” Isa’s voice was cold and even but as she turned and walked away, tears spilled down her face.

————-

The morning found Alistair feeling more than a little regret. After Isa had stormed out, he had finished the bottle of rye and stumbled back to his room. Now he was left with a headache and the realization that he should probably apologize. Then again, maybe he should just let her go. Maybe it was best if she hated him. 

He had managed to dress and choke down a little toast and coffee but he still needed some time before facing his duties. The chapel would provide a place for quiet contemplation. Also, no one would look for him there.

The small alcove was usually deserted this time of day but not today. Alistair recognized Hawke’s friend Varric. The rogue lit a candle as Alistair sat on one of the benches. After a few moments Varric joined him on the bench.

“Hawke was a remarkable woman. I am going to miss her.” Alistair offered.

“She really was.” Varric replied, his voice heavy with sorrow. 

That sat in silence for a moment, the memories of Marion Hawke bittersweet.

Varric finally cleared his throat and shifted the conversation. 

“So the Inquisitor seemed out of sorts this morning, you didn’t have anything to do with that did you?” 

He turned to face Alistair and lifted one eyebrow. The warden looked down at his hands guiltily.

“I may have spoken to her a little last night. While I was drinking.” Alistair replied. He glanced up at the rogue and the other man narrowed his eyes.

“Ok, I may have been a bit drunk.” Alistair relented. 

Varric sighed. “Do you know what the last thing I said to Hawke was? I called her an ass.” He chuckled at the memory. “She knew I loved her but imagine if she didn’t. How awful it would be to lose someone without letting them know you care. Maker knows why but Isa cares about you. She values your opinion. Don’t let her go if your last words to her were hurtful.”

Varric was right. Isa had been nothing but nice to Alistair and he had treated her unfairly. She was kind to everyone around her and a force to be reckoned with in a fight. He had seen her patiently listen to the requests of townsfolk and even spirits. Sure, she was stubborn and a little conceited but she was also a great leader and she was making the inquisition into a force for good in Thedas. He may have noticed that she was sort of pretty too.

“So I should probably apologize,” he said, finally.

“Yup.” Varric answered with a smirk.

“You don’t happen to know where I might find her?” Alistair asked as he stood. He wasn’t sure what he would say but he knew he wanted to at least let her know he was wrong.

“Well,” Varric replied as he leaned back. “My guess is halfway to Griffon Wing Keep.”

“What!” Alistair froze mid step. Was he too late? Was she already gone?

“Seems she didn’t sleep well last night and decided to leave early this morning. She was going to stop at the keep before returning to Skyhold. I bet a fast horse could get there before she sets off tomorrow.” Varric offered.

Alistair set off toward the stables in a run.

“Good luck kid” Varric yelled after him.


	2. Chapter 2

Sweat dripped into Isa’s eyes for the millionth time and she tried her best to wipe her forehead but her grit-covered hand just smeared dirt across her face. They had been riding for a few hours and now that the sun was high in the cloudless sky she was regretting her choice of armor. Maybe full leathers in black was a bad idea for desert fighting. She sighed. This is what she gets for running away like a coward. 

After their conversation last night, Isa realized all her little fantasies about getting closer to Alistair Therin were ridiculous. At best, the man thought of her as a spoiled, noble brat. At worst, and most likely, he despised her. Whatever connection she had perceived between them had only been politeness on his part and childish whimsy on hers. She was in the middle of a war, the outcome of which could decide the fate of the world. This wasn’t the time to be obsessing over some strapping warden. And yet…she couldn’t stop thinking about what he said, the bitterness in his voice, the anger in his eyes. 

“Inquisitor, this might help.” Cassandra’s voice startled Isa out of her thoughts. 

The warrior had brought her horse close and was offering a clean, damp handkerchief. Isa took it gratefully. She wiped the sweat and dirt from her face. When she offered it back to Cassandra, the other woman smiled and shook her head.

“You keep it. A damp cloth on the back of your neck will make you feel cooler.” 

Isa smiled, gratefully and positioned the scrap of fabric behind her collar. Sure enough, it helped. 

“You seem troubled Inquisitor.” Cassandra began. “The battle at Adamant was…difficult. Some of what we saw in the Fade…” her voice trailed off.

“I know what you mean.” Isa whispered. 

Cassandra cleared her throat and met Isa’s gaze. “You had to make an impossible decision Inquisitor. And now, you have to live with the results. It is a hard thing, sending men and women into danger. But you do it, again and again because you have to. Because if you didn’t, even more people would come to harm. It is what makes you a great leader. Never doubt that we made the right choice when we made you Inquisitor, I never do.”

Isa smiled at her friend. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.” Cassandra deadpanned back. 

The relentless heat of the sun and lack of sleep had managed to give her a headache by the time they reached Griffon Wing Keep. Rylen met her party in the courtyard and offered to host them for the middy meal. Isa gratefully accepted as long as they could have a few moments to freshen up beforehand. 

The cool water felt exquisite. She dunked her face in the basin and splashed water across her shoulders. She had stripped off her armor and couldn’t bare the thought of tring to wriggle back into the damp leather. As she dried her hair the best she could with a towel, she searched her pack for something to wear. A curious arrangement of silks and ropes that had been a gift from the Qun seemed her only option. After a few false starts she figured out the complicated way the outfit should be worn. The top barely covered more than her breast band but the pants were loose and comfortable. She wasn’t sure she’d want to wear this in a fight but it would do for lunch at the keep. Her reflection in the mirror smirked back at her. She imagined the scandal her clothes would cause back in Ostwick. But here, in the wilds of the western approach, she looked almost regal. The deep red of the ropes brought out the copper highlights in her normally mousey hair and the bright turquoise of the silks offset her pale skin nicely. She laughed at her own vanity. No wonder Alistair thought she was conceited.

————-

It was late afternoon when Alistair’s horse thundered through the gates of the keep. 

“State your business.” a guard asked as she walked towards him, a hand on the hilt of her sword. 

“Warden Commander Alistair Therin to see the Inquisitor.” he offered in his best official voice. 

He dismounted and the guard took his horse’s reigns. 

“Oh, of course, Warden Commander.” the woman stammered. Her posture changing from threat to nervous awe. She made an awkward salute and stood at stiff attention, waiting. The woman must have been a very new recruit to be so intimidated. 

“And where might I find the Inquisitor?” he prompted.

“Right, the Inquisitor is on patrol with Knight-Captain Rylen. Sir.” she replied stiffly.

“If you would take care of my horse, I think I can find a way to pass the time until they return.” he purred with a smile and winked at her. 

She blushed as she walked the horse toward the stables. He turned to find himself something to eat and a place to wash up but couldn’t help but think at least there was one woman in all of Thedas who wasn’t mad at him.

He had left in a bit of a hurry so he didn’t bring a change of clothes. The warden armor he was wearing seemed a bit conspicuous but enough people recognized him from his previous visit that friendly looks outweighed hostile ones by a wide margin. The inside of the keep’s tavern seemed more like a Starkhaven public house than a desert cantina. Alistair was grateful for the hearty food and cold ale. It was still rather early and the place was mostly empty. He had plenty of time to think about what he should say to Isa. 

‘I’m sorry’ seemed like a good start. ‘I’m an ass’ could also work. He pushed a roasted carrot around his plate and frowned. She deserved better than this. She deserved better than him. 

No. He had too many regrets in his life. He wouldn’t let the last thing he said to Isa Trevelyan be an insult. He would tell her how much he respected her. She was so patient with everyone she met. She listened carefully and gathered all the information she could before making decisions. And when she made a decision, she followed through without hesitation or reservation. She was a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. The things she could do with a pair of daggers - he once saw her take out four red templars before he had unsheathed his sword. She was esteemed by generals and foot soldiers alike. Unlike most nobles he met, she would never ask someone to do something she wouldn’t be willing to do herself. 

He would tell her how much he enjoyed the time they had spent together while traveling. She had such a wicked sense of humor. The way she laughed was loud and open and without fear. But she was never cruel. Her smile was warm and mischievous all at once. She could charm dignitaries and servants with her grin. And her eyes, hazel was completely inadequate to describe the color. They flashed green when she was angry but when she talked with him by the fire late at night, they seemed as deep and dark as the ocean during a storm. 

“Did you see the Inquisitor before she left?” said a loud voice at the table next to him, interrupting his thoughts. 

The tavern had filled up somewhat. The three men at the table next to him looked like Orlesian merchants and seemed fairly drunk already. 

“Of course, how could I miss her. She looked like a barbarian whore in that outfit.” one of the men responded. His comment attracted the attention of some of the Inquisition soldiers seated nearby. His companions laughed, oblivious to the dirty looks they were getting.

“Well, its no surprise. The woman keeps company with Vints and Qunari. I’ve even heard she has elves as advisors. Disgusting.” the third man snorted.

Alistair noticed the group of soldiers were now staring at the merchants. They got angrier with every comment and hands were getting close to pommels. This was going to turn into a fight at any moment unless someone intervened. He stood and placed himself between the Orlesians and the Inquisition men then leaned over the table.

“Excuse me gentlemen,” Alistair began “perhaps an Inquisition keep is the wrong place to slander the leader of said organization.”

The drunken men looked over. Two of them noticed the hostile soldiers and seemed to realize their mistake. The third, however, was too drunk to take a hint.

“What’s this? A Grey Warden?” he sneered.

“What gave me away? Was it the armor or do I still have chunks of darkspawn in my hair. I can never seem to wash all the bits out.” Alistair returned, his lame joke eliciting some weak chuckles from the men behind him. 

“Of course the Inquisition is mixed up with your lot,” the drunken man continued, “the Inquisitor is as bad at picking allies as she is uncultured.”

“You don’t know anything about her.” Alistair replied, his voice low with warning. He leaned across the table. “Now, I suggest you finish your drinks and leave here before something bad happens.”  
The man glared back, clearly angry, but he didn’t reply. Alistair stood up and turned, ready to go back to his table. The sound of his chair falling to the ground was all the warning the warden got as the Orlesian lunged across the table, dagger in hand. A drunken merchant was no match for the warrior though and he was disarmed and had a bloodied nose before he could touch Alistair. Two guardsmen were at the table in an instant. They hauled the merchant to his feet and dragged him away. A third approached Alistair.

“Sir, I’m sorry but the rules are very clear. If you are in a fight in the keep, you must be held for judgment. We will need to take you into custody until Knight-Captain Rylen returns.” the guard indicated. 

Alistair nodded and walked out with the man. Great, now he would be apologizing to Isa from behind bars.


	3. Chapter 3

Dorian seemed almost amused as Isa paced from one side of the room to the other. She stopped and frowned at him.

“What in the Maker’s name is he doing here?” she whined.

“From what I hear, defending your honor.” he answered with a smirk. “Everyone in the keep is talking about the handsome Warden Commander fighting for the lovely Inquisitor. You’d think he slayed an archdemon for you instead of just punching some smarmy merchant.”

She rolled her eyes and sighed in frustration.

“You know what I mean. Besides, I have never needed anyone to defend my honor or anything else. Ugh, I’m just glad Knight-Captain Rylen has a sense of humor about this whole thing”

Isa crossed her arms. She felt more nervous about talking to Alistair again then she had fighting a wyvern. Claws and teeth she could handle. The look of anger and derision he had given her the last time they talked had broken her heart. She had really believed there was something developing between them but he had made it clear her feeling were not reciprocated. 

Dorian’s soft chuckle pulled her from her thoughts.

“This is no laughing matter Pavus!” she huffed. 

Isa pulled one of the decorative cushions from the chair closest to her and threw it at the mage. He dogged it gracefully.

“Come now, the man didn’t follow you here just to insult you some more. I traveled with the two of you. I’ve seen the way he smiles at you when he thinks no one is looking. All of those long conversations after everyone else had already gone to sleep. Frankly, I’m more shocked that nothing happened between you before now.” 

A soft knock at the door stopped the conversation. 

“Um, may I speak with you a moment? Its, um, Alistair.” 

Isa looked at Dorian in a panic. He glanced to the door and back at her, waiting for her to respond. She looked as if she had been hit with a paralyze spell. 

“Well, I guess this is my cue to leave.” he said and crossed the room. 

Dorian opened the door and smiled at Alistair.

“Warden Commander, so good of you to join us.” he remarked as he pulled the warrior into the room, “I’m afraid I was just on my way out.” 

Dorian winked at Isa as he closed the door behind him. 

“Oh, well, it was nice to see you too Dorian.” Alistair quipped to the closed door. 

He looked back at her and gave her a shy smile. He looked almost as nervous as she felt.  
She did her best to calm herself and at least appear polite. 

“Please have a seat Warden Commander.” she offered as she descended onto the small sofa. 

He placed himself next to her but perched at the edge of the cushion and looked at his hands. 

“Are we back to formal titles?” he asked softly.

She cleared her throat and forced her shoulders to relax a fraction. Was he trying to act like he hadn’t insulted and hurt her the last time they spoke? He had been more than unkind and she was not going to let him off the hook so easily.

“Alright, Alistair. I got the impression from our last conversation that you were not very interested in being friends anymore.” She tried to keep her voice even but the hurt she felt bled into the words. “Are you just here to tell me what I’m doing wrong or did you want to discuss something?” 

She caught his gaze then but took no pleasure at the pain in his soft eyes.

“I didn’t mean to…oh Maker, I’m fucking this up, aren’t I?” his reply was almost a whisper.

He stood suddenly and took two steps away. There was a tension in his posture as he turned. The pain in his eyes had changed to resolve.

“Isa, you are strong, and patient, and funny, and lovely, and I…well, I’m none of those things.” His hand combed through his hair self-consciously. “Ugh, that did not come out right at all.” he added, mostly to himself. 

“You can be funny…sometimes.” she relented.

“See, even when you are rightfully mad, you can’t help but be kind.” 

She wanted to stay angry but it was hard to do when he gave her those puppy dog eyes. He sat down again and leaned toward her. 

“I came here because I needed to tell you I was wrong. I’m so sorry.”

Anxiously, his eyes searched her face and waited for her reaction. It took a moment for the words to click in her brain. 

“Do you really think I’m lovely?” she asked carefully. 

The relief washed over him and without thinking, he leaned in and kissed her. 

Time stopped. Shock was the first thing that registered. Not the shock of fear or discomfort. This was electric. He was kissing her and electricity was running through her veins. Is this what magic feels like - she wondered.

He pulled back suddenly.

“Oh, wow. Was that OK?” Alistair's voice was soft and husky. 

“Yes!” she purred as she pulled him closer and kissed him again.


End file.
